


Well Played

by Cascaper



Series: Keeping Composure [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Fun, POV First Person, Reader-Insert, Self-Insert, general japery, or also i suppose technically, sibling shenanigans, silliness, you cannot hope to keep secrets for long from your family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 01:50:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14727692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cascaper/pseuds/Cascaper
Summary: In which, despite our lovers' best efforts at secrecy in the name of safety, the truth will out. (Also, minor spoilers regarding patch 4.2.)





	Well Played

**Author's Note:**

> Or: you can fool all the Scions some of the time, and some of the Scions all the time, but you cannot fool all the Scions all the time. Especially not Alisaie Leveilleur.
> 
> Warning- here there be first person narration.

“Ooh, this is new!” Tataru exclaims as I enter the sitting room of her suite at the Bokairo Inn. I’ve come to fetch her and Alisaie for a Little Ladies’ Day outing- we have reservations at the Umineko.

“Do you like it?” I ask, giving a bit of a turn. The Songbird dress may be rather… fancy, but my legs are free and clear, so I don’t mind it too much. Plus, it has the cleverest pockets under the top layer of skirt, handy for hiding tokens from one’s beloved.

“Oh, I love it!” Tataru is beaming. “Alisaie,” she calls, “are you almost ready? [Name] is here!”

When Alisaie appears, she stops dead in her tracks at the sight of me. “Well well,” she says, an odd little grin curling across her face. “Such frills and furbelows. Not a woman of duties today, eh?”

“My only duty this day,” I reply cheerily, “is to see we’re not late. There’s a pile of sweets with our names on it.”

Despite the promise of goodies, Alisaie falls a few steps behind on our way to the teahouse. Meanwhile Tataru keeps up a steady stream of compliments: “Oh [Name], it really suits you! The tailoring is excellent, and that dye just glows against your skin- I’m jealous I didn’t sew it myself, to tell the truth. Oh, where’s an artist when you need one…”

“Why, buried in books back at the Bokairo,” Alisaie interjects, catching back up. “Should I call Alphinaud? I’m sure he would be only too glad of a break.”

“Ah, there’s no need for that,” I say hastily.

“You’re right,” Alisaie agrees, “he’d do it anyway. Indeed, one glimpse of this getup and there’d be no stopping him.” Something about the way she says this puts my hackles up just slightly, but I try to brush it off.

Later, we stroll the marketplace in an attempt to walk off the sweets, only to come upon Alphinaud browsing a stationer’s stall. Nothing will persuade me that it is pure coincidence. Especially not his sister’s mischievous smirk.

***

"This is new,” I hear Alphinaud’s voice in an irritable undertone as I approach our rendezvous point. There is no reply; he must be on linkpearl. “A new low, sister, even for you. Will you never tire of meddling where you are not wanted? -Oh, very funny. There is a vast difference between stepping in to defend the realm and stepping in to make sport of personal affairs. -Twelve’s sake, no we are not- Very well, if you are determined to be childish, I see no point in continuing this conversation. Good night.” He hangs up, grumbling. 

I deliberately scrunch a bit of gravel underfoot to announce my presence, then enter my dear’s line of sight. The instant I am within reach, he pulls me into his arms. No more is said between us for quite some time… not verbally, anyway.

***

“So the other day, in the market- that was no accident,” I remark, leaning against the study wall.

“No, more’s the pity. Do you know, she actually hid the last ink bottle to be certain I would have to replace it?” At his desk, Alphinaud buries his face in his hands with a little groan.

“If it’s any consolation,” I offer, “your blush is adorable.” 

He raises his head. “It is not, though I thank you for saying it. At this rate she’ll have all and sundry buzzing about poor Master Leveilleur and his unrequited passions. What is she playing at, damn it?”

“You know Alisaie,” I sigh. “Mayhap we should just tell her. Swear her to secrecy.”

“About what?” a voice pipes up, to our mutual horror. Krile is standing in the doorway.

“My new song,” I blurt, just as Alphinaud replies “Nothing of consequence.” There is a moment as we all exchange stares of varying degrees of confusion.

“A new song of no consequence?” Krile repeats. “Why [Name], I didn’t know you composed.”

“Oh, not very often,” I say. “Just as a hobby. I haven’t got anything worth hearing, yet.” I intend to follow this with an airy laugh, but it comes out as a weak chuckle.

Krile looks skeptical, but does not press the point. Thank the Twelve.

***

Lately, I have a growing sense of unease as word fails to come regarding the Doman prisoner exchange. I can’t shake the suspicion that that Zenos-toady of an ambassador is trying to set us all as firmly on edge as possible. Or perhaps he’s giving Yotsuyu’s memories every chance to return? Whatever the reason, I’m getting tenser by the day in spite of all my dear can do; I just want this whole affair to be done.

So when Alisaie calls to ask if I’d like to spar with her, I accept without hesitation, desperate to get out of my own head. We retreat to a deserted section of the coast, well away from the city, and have at each other with zeal- kicking up a terrific amount of dust in dodging each other’s attacks. I manage to lose myself in the moment, even when we are finally obliged to break off for a rest.

Once my breath comes back, I say, “I’d almost forgotten what that feels like.”

“What what feels like?” she asks.

I grin. “Fighting for fun.”

Alisaie grins back. “And here was I, thinking you were just having a ball every time you hit the battlefield. Warrior of Light, the picture of ease, killing the foe with a song on the breeze.”

“Ye gods.” I wince. “Where the hells did that nonsense come from?”

“Tataru.” At my questioning look, she explains, “I heard her at her sewing the other day, humming. Either she’s writing her own tunes, or there are some truly awful amateur minstrels about. You have to admit it sticks in the head.”

“Much the same way as mold sticks to the goobbue fighter,” I return.

“Or sea salt to the swimmer,” she suggests.

I shiver a bit. “Gyaah, and how it does. Grateful though I am for the Kojin’s blessing, the amount of salt I have to scrub out of my hair after helping them… Blech!”

Now Alisaie snickers. “You sound exactly like Alphinaud when he led you all in that hundred-yalm sea sprint. He tried not to show it, but he was absolutely writhing for want of a shower til we got to the House of the Fierce afterward.”

“And well he might,” I respond. “It clings and clumps, and _itches_ like hells- I’ve always wondered why it never seems to bother you.”

“One gets used to these things,” she says loftily, “when one is the champion swimmer of the family. I’m afraid Alphi will have to do the same if he hopes to approach my level of skill.”

“All hail the mermaid queen.” I incline my head, smiling.

Alisaie leans back on her elbows, tilting her head toward the sky. “He had some nerve, insisting I stay behind that day. I hated being so close and yet so far, with nothing to do but listen to you all duking it out and ponder when the hells he learned even to flail through the water with such purpose.”

“Arenvald says he was practicing in Loch Seld for some time prior to our departure,” I remark idly, stretching out beside her.

“Really?” Alisaie sits up again. “Hm. He can’t have done much, though- as that belly flop he called a dive would attest.”

I snort at the memory. “Probably just the odd bell here and there, you’re right. Still, it was surprising that he made such strides without our knowing.”

“Yes,” Alisaie muses, “yes it was. Before that day, I was convinced that my brother would be using buoyancy aids for the rest of his natural life. Twelve alone know what else he might be hiding from us.”

All my tension rushes back at once. That sounded– that was the most blatant insinuation– No, no, I’m just being paranoid. Silly me. Have a look at her face and you’ll s–

...Ah.

She needs no words; her expression says it all: eyes glittering, slightly narrowed, above lips stretched in the barest of sly smiles. The game may very well be up.

“That depends,” I reply, finding my tongue, “on what you think he’s hiding.”

“Why, a thrilling romance with you.”

Oh, [guardian] have mercy. I close my eyes. “Tell me you haven’t told anyone else.”

Now she huffs, though the sound seems as much amused as exasperated. “For gods’ sake, of course I haven’t! Quite enough people seek to do us harm, let alone you; I wouldn’t dream of giving them another avenue of attack.”

I exhale. “Good. Thank you.” My ebbing tension leaves both relief and a strange sort of guilt in its wake. “We were going to tell you eventually, if no one else. Though, come to that, how did you know we were together?”

“I didn’t.” As I whip my head round to face her, Alisaie’s smile has grown to a triumphant grin. “Not, that is, until this moment. You’ve just told me.”

Well. This is new. She’s gone and learned the art of bluff. For a few seconds, all I can do is sit there, dazed. “…Coeurls and kittens,” I say at last. “Well played.”


End file.
